


Ascension

by mynameisyarra



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Demigods, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisyarra/pseuds/mynameisyarra
Summary: There is no rest for those who slay gods





	Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is a cotribution for Shidge Charity Zine! Which you can order [here!](https://shidgefanzine.tictail.com/)

It started like this. The usual story of the Champion of Gods, a hero who gallantly stepped forward with an armored body to fight in the name of the pantheon that chose him. His hands were empty of swords, spears, maces, and bows and arrows. Why would he need any of them? He was a weapon in and of himself. Crushing the enemy’s throat with his bare hands, ripping flesh apart as if his fingers were claws made out of the strongest metal. He fought in the name of his Gods.  _ Made  _ to fight in their names. 

And when there was no war to fight, no monsters to slay, his God dressed him up to stay quiet and look pretty. He was an accessory, an attraction to be gawked at and shown off. A reminder of who was in power. Sometimes, when he was lucky, his God would let him rest alone in his room. But he was rarely lucky, especially when he did so well, and his God loved him so much.

Takashi Shirogane hated it, hated himself for sacrificing others for his own survival. Hated his God, hated the entire pantheon. But he wasn’t allowed to. 

It started like this. The actual story they didn’t want you to hear. Pathetic, a false hero who couldn’t even cry in his sleep in fear of waking his God up. His body still shook from time to time, his God’s touch lingering like a ghost that didn’t know how to rest in peace. Shiro’s lungs were filled with filth, making it hard to breathe.

Someone was calling his name, someone was touching him. He curled up and let them. “Shiro…” The voice was wrong, too soft, too kind. “Shiro, it’s me. It’s alright, Zarkon is dead.”

* * *

Pidge hadn’t been Katie in a long time. Hadn’t been Katherine for far longer. Everyone would be searching for the princess of the fallen kingdom after all. 

Leading a rebellion was difficult, especially a war against the gods the people had been worshipping for eons. She thought finding someone willing to fight by her side for her cause would be hard. Turned out she didn’t have to search very far. The children of gods held their grudges dearly, a trait shared with their parents.

But it was still difficult. They didn’t know how the pantheon worked beyond what the priests told them, and they all knew  _ where  _ the priests got their stories. The gods were not to be trusted to tell the truth about themselves.

Then, like some sort of providence — except it wasn’t, considering who they were rebelling against — they gained intel on how the gods worked, how to fight back against them, how to  _ kill  _ them. It was almost too good to be true, but Pidge knew better as she recognized the handwriting of her mysterious informant. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check if the information was indeed true, so she gathered a small group to hunt down a minor god, something safe to kill that wouldn’t cause much fuss.

They did it. They killed a god. There was hope for them.

And hopefully for Shiro, too.

* * *

Killing gods, Pidge thought, was easier than dealing with the aftermath of what those bastards left behind. 

When she reached Zarkon’s chamber, the leader of the pantheon stood with his weapon raised over a prostrating Shiro, ready to punish his traitor of a Champion. Pidge didn’t let him, stabbing him before he had the chance to do anything to Shiro. It wasn’t enough to kill the monster, but it was enough for Shiro to grab him and burn the god with the ability that was given to him.

“If there is an afterlife for something like you, I hope you suffer there.” Shiro’s words were drowned by Zarkon’s screams and struggles.

Pidge still heard Shiro loud and clear, agreeing wholeheartedly. She pulled out the dagger from Zarkon’s stomach, and proceeded to behead him while Shiro pinned him down. Zarkon’s body disintegrated, leaving only his lifeless head as proof of their victory.

Shiro’s shoulders sagged, tension leaving him while relief washed over his face. “We won.” Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes before streaming down. There was nothing Pidge could say to calm him, so she stayed her tongue. Instead she just embraced him the entire time he cried. He had sacrificed so much, done so much. Letting him cry was the least Pidge could do for him.

Shiro fell asleep after letting it all out. He didn’t look at ease while he slumbered, silent as a corpse. It unnerved Pidge.

Pidge kicked Zarkon’s head lightly, distaste curled her lips. She kneeled down and poked it while the head rocked back and forth with the gravity. “At least I know how you will be useful now.

* * *

” Shiro woke up alone on Zarkon’s bed. A welcomed change, but where was…

“Shiro?” A familiar voice rang. “You awake?”

Shiro’s heart beat faster, the lull of his sleep was gone when he heard her voice. Why was she here? Did Zarkon finally catch her? Or was this an illusion? Thousands of scenarios played in his head, filling his lungs with dread.

“Shiro? I’m going to touch you, okay?” Calloused small hands rested on his shoulders firmly. “You are okay. We are okay. Zarkon is dead, remember? You saved us.” Katie’s voice was a soothing reminder to reality. “You are free now, I promise.”

Slowly he regained his ability to breathe. Shiro took a few ragged breaths before calming down. “You are here.” He gazed at her.

“In the flesh!  _ And  _ alive!” Katie grinned brightly. Seconds later her expression softened again. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat. Do you want to eat with us in The Hall or do you want to stay here?”

“I don’t—” Shiro felt his chapped lips and realized how thirsty he was. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

“Kay—okay. Let’s get you dressed then.” She helped Shiro stand up. He could feel his legs regain their strength, and soon he could walk on his own to the wardrobe. “Do you want me to wait outside?” Katie asked quietly.

“Yeah… yeah, I think I can manage.” Shiro smiled softly to her, which she returned back with more intensity.

“Alright! I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

* * *

The walk to The Hall was short, which Pidge was grateful for. She started losing stuff to ramble about, and Shiro wasn’t talking. “You have  _ got  _ to meet Hunk. He’s the best!” She said as she opened the door for him.Shiro smiled at her before he walked in and froze.

Pidge didn’t realize what the problem was at first. Was it being in front of a crowd? A cheering crowd? Yeah, that would make her anxious too.

Then she followed where his eyes were staring. “Why are they here?” His voice was hoarse, his hand gripped on her shoulder like a lifeline.

“Shiro?” Pidge hoped her wince wasn’t obvious. “We’ll get rid of it,” she assured him. “Let’s go back to your room, I’ll eat with you there.”

They left The Hall, this time both sides were silent. Pidge couldn’t tell what Shiro was thinking, but she could hazard a guess of how he was feeling.

What had she been thinking? Of course putting Zarkon’s and Haggar’s heads on display wasn’t a good idea!

* * *

On the third day of their victory, Shiro’s ‘hand’ stopped working. It was the gauntlet Zarkon forced on him, a symbol of ownership and proof that Shiro was nothing but a weapon. 

“Good,” Shiro said, surprising the people surrounding him. “I hated this thing for a long time.”

Hunk blinked before grinning at him. “Pretty sure I can make something more useful than that anyway.”

Shiro never thought that in those three days people would stop being wary of him and treat him like one of their own. It was hard to argue that he wasn’t, considering he was their informant in the first place. It didn’t help that Katie had the biggest pout when she said, “Yeah, well, we are not going to let you wallow in self pity.” He was so happy to have her with him.

The future looked so bright, and for once he was happy not being dead.

* * *

Shiro woke up feeling the weight of his hand back. Briefly he wondered if the technicians decided to surprise him by fitting his new arm while he was asleep. Shiro wondered how they managed to do it without waking him up.

“Katie?” He turned to the woman beside him, expecting her to be awake and grinning to see his surprised reaction. Except she was still asleep, drool dripping from her mouth making Shiro chuckle and reach his hand out to wipe her face.

He saw his new hand. No flesh, no muscle, no skin. Only dry, white bones.

Shiro screamed.

* * *

A void was created when they killed the gods. The world was in need of a new balance to fill the void, and who better to do so than the ones who killed those gods. And so they ascended, with two prominent deities at the center of this newborn pantheon.

The Deity of Life, she who represented struggles and the many choices people could make, and how those choices helped shape the world. It was a fitting title for Katie, Shiro thought. Someone who led, bled, and seized victory for the right to make their own destiny.

She was heroic. He was not.

The title Deity of Death clued him in. His realm was a purple haze that reminded him of Zarkon. He was scared, thinking of it as a warning. His palace reminded him of his hometown, sliding paper doors and cozy rice straw mats for the floor. It was his refuge, but he couldn’t help the loneliness that he felt.

* * *

She was The Deity of Life. She reached her palace using the bodies of her fallen allies, overseeing the people from the tall trees where no one could touch her. Pidge felt sick by all the worship, when people told one another to persevere when they were clearly in need of help.

Being separated from Shiro made everything worse.

He was The Deity of Death, but she thought of his realm as a refuge for the tired souls that worshipped her. To struggle is to live. She couldn’t help but feel relief when Shiro opened his arms to accept death before the next cycle continued. Rest was not stagnation, she thought,  wishing she was eloquent enough to put it into actual words instead of just thinking of it.

* * *

AIt took a long, long time for them to accept that their new roles were not a warning or a curse. An even longer time for him to realize that his was the realm of fruition, and for her to see beyond the suffering. She escorted the souls to him, and he would smile at her with a warm smile and open arms.

They were not confined in their own realms as they first thought. They were not opposites clashing against each other, nor two sides of the same coin who could never see each other. They were a cycle, an equilibrium for time to continue to spin. 


End file.
